Akumatization
by Nangbaby
Summary: A one-shot fanfic that features Hawk Moth akumatizing an original character. What happens in the mental tug of war? Will this unique target reject the akuma or is he just as susceptible as anyone else? May be re-written as part of another fanfic at a later date.


**Author's Note:** This was written before the airing of the episode "Miraculer," when a successful attempt to deter an akuma was shown. Obviously in a re-write this would happen a little differently. Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

Hawk Moth stood tall as the diaphragm of the roof opened. Sunlight spilled into the atrium and onto the wings of white butterflies. He had been alerted by a particularly melodious and unique song of emotion. In the city, a man was filled with a deep fear, blended with anger, disappointment, and self-loathing. The vortex of emotions was growing by the second, and Hawk Moth wickedly smiled as he cupped one of the butterflies. As quickly as these feelings rose, they could also subside, and Hawk Moth knew he could not let this opportunity pass.

"The savory emotion of a man who is desperate to please his family with the little time that he has left," he commented. Black energy poured into the butterfly in his palm and he opened it up, revealing a newly black butterfly, which did not wait for his subsequent command to ascend.

"Go forth, my little akuma, and evilize him."

The butterfly soared through the window and Hawk Moth's hopes rose in tandem. The emotion was only getting stronger and this would be a uniquely powerful creation. This time, the Miraculouses that escaped his grasp would be his.

* * *

Pierre rubbed his hands together as the stream of water traveled down them from fingertips to the middle of his wrists. Although he had used the washroom facilities, he needed the break from his wife and son more there any biological need. He couldn't let them see him about to crack, not on his son's birthday.

He turned off the sink with his elbows and looked at himself in the mirror. Vanity did not cause him to study his brown eyes and hair or the smooth but adult, hairless face that could still pass for a younger man's in the right light. Instead he was looking to see if he could put the mask of happiness back on his face.

It wasn't working.

He wanted to punch the sink, to tear up the washroom, but the impulse was as ephemeral as it was destructive. Instead, he pulled out from his jacket pocket an artificial red rose. He smiled at the memory of receiving it from his wife. She joked it was full of apotropaic magic to ward off malady and malediction. The gag gift did wash away the strength of the anger, but disappointment arrive in ire's stead. He just wanted to make this day special, and it was his fault.

Because that is all it would be. A day. Not even 24 hours, but just a few hours before the sun set and the day was over and other business would have to be attended to.

Most fathers would be able to take their sons to a movie, a dinner, a fireworks show on their birthdays, and in years past, Pierre had done so. Those memories lightened the burden on his heart for a split-second, and he promised himself that even next year the day would be a bigger celebration, one that his son would deserve. Upon the glimmer of hope and determination, the countenance of happiness manifested and almost became real.

But it broke again when Pierre remembered that they would still have to get through tonight, that there would be a night spent without his wife and son - a son, no less, that's still wanted to spend time with his goofy dad despite being a teenager. Their exchange still echoed in his ear.

_You're old enough that you can go to the movie by yourself. Enjoy it for the both of us._

_That's okay, Dad. It wouldn't be the same without you._

His son was right. Perhaps if his son would have had a different childhood, then the boy would have made so many friends that he'd be dying to get away from his father. But Pierre was both best friend and parent to his child, and those ties made the whispers at the back of his mind as loud as shouts.

The mental noise distracted him from the physical sight of a black butterfly flying through the open window. It closed in on him with preternatural alacrity. By the time Pierre heard its wings flap, the butterfly was inches away.

Out of pure reflex, he clenched his fist with the rose in it and tried to hit the butterfly. In response, the butterfly landed on his hand and squeezed in between his fingers. It merged with the rose within his fist and instantly Pierre was alone in the center of his mind and heard the voice call out to him.

"Daydreamer, I am Hawk Moth."

The accuracy of the address hit him. The appellation was the persona he had developed after watching too many episodes of animated series of heroic, masked figures. The voice spoke at once to both the long dormant dreams of a teenage boy and the pain of a middle-aged adult whose dreams were denied.

Horror followed the impact with a cold grip, and he was aware of himself again.

"Get out of my head," Pierre replied instantly.

"But I'm not in your head. I'm speaking to your pure heart, and you can't unhear me."

"Stop it! I have enough to worry about."

"You need not worry that the day will be over, because you can make sure that this day will never end. You will have all the time in the world as you can stop the sun's journey across the sky."

The voice calmed him and Pierre began to phase out of himself, his consciousness now dancing to the sweet song of Hawk Moth's proposal. Swiftly his fear was swapped with spellbound serenity.

"You will be able to share your peace with others in an endless reverie," Hawk Moth continued. "And you will be able to spend as long as you want with your wife and son."

Pierre sank further into listening. Hawk Moth had not mentioned his family as a threat but a promise. He clearly had no intent to force them into villainy, but simply wanted to give Pierre an opportunity.

"In exchange, I ask that you retrieve Ladybug and Cat Noir's Miraculouses."

The magical tightrope started to fray at the edges, and Pierre's attention came unmoored. Hawk Moth wanted him to steal, from heroes, no less - people who protected the city from threats both natural and supernatural. Paired with his unworthiness, the temptation weakened and the dregs of his morality swelled into a rising puddle.

"I don't deserve it," Pierre replied. "I can't."

"You _can_. You deserve to choose not to be forced by fate."

Pierre tried to shred the influence with a mental swing, but his imaginary swipe passed through it. Despite being intangible, the compulsion grew heavier, and suffocated the weeds of resistance in Pierre's heart. With dread he realized the pressure came not from Hawk Moth, but from his own desire.

"I shouldn't...I must deny it..."

And then Pierre felt it. A stronger whirlwind of rejection burst forth from the back of his mind and quickly he felt himself being tossed between the lure of Hawk Moth and the growing cyclone of the awakening inevitability. He wobbled between urges within and urges without. If he didn't answer quickly, he knew it wouldn't be him who would make the decision.

"_Yes,_ Hawk Moth!"

Pierre found himself slipping in an all-too-familiar spiral of oblivion, except for the first time in his life he wanted it. His body was enveloped in a dark mass in seconds only for the plasma-like cocoon retreat just as quickly. His hair was now painted yellow and he sported a pale yellow tuxedo, cape, with white shoes, gloves, and a butterfly-shaped domino mask. He tucked the fake rose, now purple, inside his jacket; he had to protect this object to maintain the pact. He was the very image of the phantom thief, just like in the cartoons he used to watch.

He was Daydreamer and with a flick of the wrist, the sun stopped.

He walked out of the bathroom and the enclave, then rocketed into the air to examine his handiwork. He had always wanted to be able to fly, and now he was free of any shadow that would chain his limbs to the ground.

* * *

Externally, Hawk Moth was the complete picture of composure, standing tall in a stony, satisfied silence.

Internally, he was unnerved.

Once he made a connection with his target, the acceptance of his terms was automatic. Only one had person even attempted to resist him, and even she quickly fell to his charms.

By contrast, this man had struggled for nearly sixty seconds. The man did have a pure heart - that part of his pitch was an absolute truth - but it was not his goodness that slowed the akumatization. No, there was some part of that man that was magically resisting his presence, a part that grew stronger as Hawk Moth spoke. The idea that there was a person out there who could even possibly reject him gave him pause.

Thankfully the man's fear and his concern for his family was strong enough to guide him towards accepting the deal, although it was a concern that Hawk Moth also had experienced firsthand. He didn't like being _this_ closely in sync with his creations; the more alike their emotions the harder it would be for him to manipulate his target. Synchrony would lead to empathy, and he needed the right amount of distance to maintain a guiding hand.

Still, Daydreamer would be worth the effort with his power...once he managed to acquire the Miraculouses.


End file.
